Crossroads: Part II of Stories from StarStorm
by Natchez
Summary: Jeffren is a Candidate now, and the Hatching is drawing near. Will he Impress? Reviews are welcomed!


_Author's Note: Please see "Can Do No Wrong" for the timeline background for these stories. As always, I do not own Pern and its characters/settings. They belong to Anne McCaffrey and I'm glad she allows writers to enjoy her playground. _

**Crossroads: Part II of "Stories from StarStorm"**

by Natchez

StarStorm Weyr

Second Interval, 176.07 through 176.08

If this matter weren't so serious, the Weyrlingmaster would have laughed at the utterly ridiculous picture before him. Standing at his desk was one of the Candidates — Jeffren — all of 16 Turns. Black hair hung down past his shoulders and he sported a decent moustache. Nothing unusual for a lad of 16, except this youngster was head and shoulders shorter than any of his bunkmates. He looked like an 11-turn-old in costume. Nevertheless, Sl'tren had him here on a matter of discipline, and his height was totally irrelevant. Well, maybe not, come to think of it.

"Jeffren, I want you to understand how serious this is," he began.

"Yes sir."

"While you have made some admirable progress in controlling that nasty temper of yours, some of your other extra-curricular activities that are equally as undesirable in a Candidate have been brought to my attention."

Jeffren didn't say a word. He wasn't about to incriminate himself.

"The Weyr most certainly has different ideas about physical relationships than the Hold or even the Craft. Riding a dragon requires a different outlook. And, it is true that casual relationships are not necessarily frowned upon, provided both parties are amenable." Here, he shot a look at Jeffren, who maintained an expression of polite deference. "However," he continued, "Candidates are expected to maintain a certain standard of behavior in these matters. You have been instructed in these standards and I expect you to follow them. In other words," here his manner turned blunt, "Stop shagging every available female in the Lower Caverns who will have you! It's not a buffet line. It's creating serious dissension and every time you do it, you're violating the Candidate standards of behavior."

"Yes sir. I understand," Jeffren responded.

"I know one reason you do it is so the other lads will take you seriously as a male. I know you catch it about being short. It's understandable that you want to prove yourself, and since you're attractive to the females, I know this seems like a good way to do it. But fraggit all, Jeffren, you've got to stop it! Fortunately, none of them have turned up pregnant, which is the prime consideration. But we're having catfights down there and the only way to get those girls straightened out is for you to stay strictly away from them."

A grin lit Jeffren's face, in spite of himself. "They're fighting over me, sir?" he said.

Sl'tren couldn't help it. The look on the lad's face was so funny, his tone so hopeful, the man had to chuckle. It was chuckle or explode trying not to. "Yes, lad, they are. I can tell you think that's a good thing." He turned serious. "But it's not. So, for the duration of your Candidacy, you're banned from the Lower Caverns." Jeffren's face fell. "It's not something I want to do, but, you've got to learn some discipline. You can eat outside or in the barracks, but unless you're sent there on an errand from me or another Weyrlingmaster, or a rider, you don't go in there. You don't talk to those girls. You don't associate with them and you sure as shells don't bed them. Have I made myself clear?"

"Absolutely, sir," Jeffren replied.

"Good. Now go on to the barracks and get back to your lessons."

"Yes sir," Jeffren said and left the office.

As the door shut, Sl'tren rubbed his face and laughed again. His instincts told him Jeffren would make a good rider, but until then… oh my. He was going to have to find a way to keep that lad busy until the eggs Hatched.

Jeffren, for his part, was feeling better than he thought he would. Actually, he was getting a little tired of finding a new girl every two or three days, and this gave him a good excuse to swear off for a while. It might even improve his standing, that he was actually banned from the Lower Caverns because the girls were fighting over him. Yes-- that could be very useful, indeed. One of his previous conquests happened by as he was walking to the barracks. Sl'tren said he wasn't to speak to them, but hadn't said a thing about waving and giving them melting looks with those klah-dark eyes of his. The chit returned the wave and went back with a silly grin on her face, pleasing Jeffren no end.

When he got in the barracks, the other boys pounced on him.

"So what did he say?" said one. "What did he do to you?"

"Yeah," chimed in another. "Why were you there, anyway?"

Jeffren paused for maximum effect. "Well," he said, "I'm banned from the Lower Caverns for as long as I'm a Candidate."

"What? Why?" The boys were clamoring for answers.

"Girls."

"Girls? What girls?"

"All the ones I've made out with. They're fighting over me now, so Sl'tren banned me. Said it's the only way to get them 'straightened out,' as he put it." Jeffren sighed and walked to his bed with a resigned air, but inwardly enjoying every second of it.

Coll--Jeffren's best friend in the barracks-- stood. "I told you fellers there was more to Jeff than met the eye. Now we know — the chits can't keep their hands off him. Don't you wish you were so lucky?"

"For real," said one.

Another quipped, "Well, we now know not everything Jeff has is as small as the rest of him, obviously." Laughter met this remark, but finally, it was the laughter of equals. The boys went to get some dinner, except for Coll, who came to stand by Jeffren's bed.

"Jeff, boy, this doesn't bother you in the least, does it?"

Jeff shook his head and snickered. "Not at all. In fact, it couldn't have turned out better. My libido and I get a rest, and the others respect me, now. It was getting a little tiring, finding a cute one I hadn't been with, yet," he said and grinned.

His friend shook his head. "Work, work, work. I'm sure it was such a hardship."

Jeff laughed at this remark. "You know it. Hand me my gitar bag, would you? I've got some practicing to catch up on." He took the instrument out of its bag and carefully, lovingly tuned it. The horn pick was still in good shape and he strummed a sweet chord and started on an intricate instrumental he had composed.

Coll sat, listening to the music, and after Jeff strummed the final chord he said, "Why weren't you a Harper?"

"Because I wanted to ride a dragon."

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A firm foot on Jeff's rear end pushed him out of his bunk. He woke, drowsy-eyed. "Who the shell kicked me? What's up?" he said.

"Hatching, numbwit!" said Coll. "Get dressed!"

"What time is it?"

"Close enough to getting up time, anyway. Sl'tren says the eggs will Hatch within two or three hours. Maybe less. So, we've got to get this place cleaned up, and ourselves, and get to the Grounds."

Jeff struggled out of bed and quickly made it up, and looked on the duty chart to see what he had to do for the morning. Good. Just sweep and take the garbage out. No problem. He finished both tasks in record time and was dressed and ready to go in less time than one would have thought possible. Just about then, Sl'tren came into the barracks again.

"Candidates, all of you go and get your breakfasts and wait in the room next to the Grounds. Don't go on the Grounds before I come for you. A queen dragon does NOT like to have her clutch disturbed before it Hatches. Remember what we've told you: don't be afraid, and if a dragonet comes past you, give it plenty of room. They're clumsy, awkward and dangerous at this stage. They wouldn't dream of hurting a human, but they do because they are too uncoordinated to do anything else. Just give them a wide berth unless they look right at you. Then, step forward and to one side and ask if they were looking at you. They'll let you know. All right? Let's go."

All the boys filed out, including Jeffren--long hair, moustache and all. They ate and waited nervously in the room, along with the girls, until the high keening and hum of the dragons told them that Hatching was imminent. Sl'tren came for them and led them onto the Grounds. Jeffren looked up in the stands for his grandparents, but there was such a crowd, he couldn't spot them. They, however, saw him. His grandmother took in the long hair and moustache and was mortified. "Oh, Tarel," she said. "Look at Jeff. He looks like a little hoodlum."

The old Harper grinned and chuckled, "Settle down, Docena. The dragonets won't care. He's trying to look like a man, in spite of his height." The woman just sighed deeply and twisted the fringe on her shawl in nervousness.

An egg cracked, and the boys stepped forward. It was a lovely little green and made straight for the girls. One yelled for joy as Impression was made. As usual, then, all the eggs seemed to Hatch at one time. Jeff watched as all his bunkmates seemed to have dragons of their own. Coll had a handsome blue, not surprisingly. Suddenly, he was knocked flat on his face in the hot Sands, and something was urgently pushing at him to roll over. He did and found himself looking right into the eyes of a beautiful brown dragon. _"My name is Shimuth,"_ the dragon said.

Jeff suddenly knew he had found the best friend anyone could have. "You were looking for me?" he said, reaching up to scratch the little beast's eye ridge.

"_Yes. I am Shimuth and you are my rider. And I am hungry, so hungry!"_

"All right then, Shimuth. Back up a couple of paces so I can get up, why don't you?" The dragon clumsily moved back and waited on his rider to stand. Jeff, bemused, couldn't believe that he had Impressed such a beautiful, wonderful dragon, and on his first try. They made their way to the area where the fresh meat was waiting on their beasts, and the sound of other dragons gobbling filled the air.

Sl'tren handed Jeff a bucket with a grin. "Nice going, lad. Fine-looking dragon you have."

"Thank you, sir," Jeff replied and to his beast, "Chew, Shimuth! There's plenty in the pail!" The hungry dragonet had nosed the lid off the bucket and had plunged his nose in it. Jeff sat the bucket on the ground and slid the top on under his dragon's nose. The animal stopped and looked at his rider, his cheeks bulging with meat and a hurt look in his eyes.

"_I am hungry still!"_ he said, pathetically.

"I realize that, and you'll get this whole bucket, but only if you chew what you have!" Jeff's tone was loving, but very firm, which pleased the Weyrlingmaster.

Shimuth's jaws started a quick, lateral grinding and he swallowed his mouthful of food. Jeff opened the bucket again and the dragon again plunged his head in for more meat. When he came up for air, Jeff closed the bucket again, reminding his dragon to chew first. "You're not going to go hungry around here, little dragon," he said to his friend. "I will always feed you. But you've got to learn to chew what you're eating. Otherwise, you'll choke."

Finally, the pail was empty and his dragon's stomach was full. They made their slow way to the weyrling barracks, where Jeff saw his beast safely asleep on his platform beside his bed. He changed his clothes to his Gather best and combed his hair. Nana was going to blink out when she saw his hair and moustache. Pops might be all right, but he was going to hear all about it from Nana, he was sure. At least his Gather clothes fit.

He walked out of the barracks, where Coll was waiting for him. Jeff greeted his friend. "Beautiful dragon you have, there," he said. Coll grinned with pride and said, "Shimuth's a good-looking boy, too."

"Isn't he, though? So, what will you call yourself?" Jeff asked.

"I was thinking about C'land. My name's Colland, so that's pretty close. Jornith likes it."

"I suspect they'll be happy with anything we choose. I was considering J'fren for me."

"Not bad. Not bad at all. You're still Jeff, though," he said.

"And you're still Coll."

They got to the Caverns where the Hatching Feast was held and Jeff was nearly mobbed by the girls, congratulating him on Impressing. He thanked them all and made his way through the crowd. He and Coll were still laughing about it when Nana caught him by the arm.

"Jeffren!" she exclaimed and gave him one of her patented Nana-squeezes-the-breath-out-of-you hugs. His eyes were bulging a little when she finally let go of him and put her hand to his cheek. "You're thinner, dear. You haven't been eating enough. And I have to tell you, dear, that you look like a little holdless Trader child, what with that long hair. And when have you been able to grow whiskers, sweeting? Oh! You're my little lad, all grown up and with a dragon of your own." Her eyes filled with tears, and unaccountably, so did Jeff's.

He hadn't really thought about it, but he wouldn't be going home with Nana and Pops at the end of the day. His home was here at the Weyr, now. A deep sadness and homesickness filled him. His grandparents had been the only parents he had ever known. His Nana had cooked for him, mended his torn clothes, doctored scraped knees and elbows and kissed him goodnight every night he lived there, even after he was well past the age for it. He hadn't realized until just now how much he missed that sweet, lavender-scented kiss on his cheek at bedtime. He threw his arms around his Nana, who was even shorter than he was, and hugged her tightly, tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, Nana!" he cried. "I'm going to miss you and Pops. I love you both so much!" A heavy, familiar hand grasped his shoulder and he turned to see his grandfather, handkerchief in hand.

"Hi, Pops," he sniffled. The man handed his grandson the handkerchief and waited until he blew his nose and calmed down a little.

"Jeffren, lad, you know we're proud of you. Shimuth is a fine, fine beast. And we will miss you. But we love you and we know you'll make your way fine at the Weyr, Son. Just do your best and be the fine rider and the fine man I know you're capable of being." Tarel's tone was gentle.

"When Shimuth's flying and I have time, I'll come to see you," J'fren said quickly.

"I know you will, Son. We'll be anxiously waiting for you."

His face still blotchy, he introduced his grandparents to Coll, who was feeling a little teary-eyed himself, watching hairy, feisty, fiery little Jeff break down. Must be nice to have someone love you like that, he thought. Inside, although he knew better, he was hoping Jeff might Impress a green. But he figured it was a brown or a bronze for his friend. Jeff's grandparents insisted he sit with them at the Hatching feast, since none of his family seemed to be there. Big surprise. They had more or less disowned him when his sexual preferences became evident.

The dancing had started and Jeff surprised the other weyrlings except Coll, by dancing first with his grandmother. Harper-trained, and not having gone through a gangly, awkward phase, he was light on his feet and partnered the older lady with an assurance well beyond his years. The music stopped and Docena left the dance floor, breathless and laughing, motioning one of the girls to take her place. She and Teral watched as their grandson partnered nearly every pretty girl at the feast.

"The Weyrlingmaster is going to have his hands full with our boy, I'm afraid," said Docena.

Tarel chuckled. "From what I hear, he already has." He told his spouse about Jeff being banned from the Lower Caverns.

Docena's mouth opened in astonishment and she covered it with her hand. "Jeff was... Oh, my." She shook her head. "I just can't believe it."

"I can," said Tarel, drily. "You never saw him with the girls at the Hold. I don't know how many times I had to jerk a knot in his tail about it. It's a fact, Docena. We spoiled him rotten and laughed at everything he did. That's why he's had the problems controlling his temper. When he was a little lad, we thought his fits were amusing. We've been terribly shortsighted where his raising was concerned."

Docena sighed. "I suppose so. But it was always so hard to tell him no when I thought about his dear parents dying so young, and him never knowing the love of his mother."

Tarel put an arm around his spouse's shoulders. "Now, Docena, no boy ever had a better mother than you've been to him. And having that dragon will teach him things we didn't. If he loves his beast, he will learn discipline and self-control."

The green that brought them to the feast arrived to ferry them back to the Hold, and they found Jeff in the crowd. He walked with them to the dragon's side and embraced both before they mounted. He stood, watching the dragon take flight and circle the Bowl before she disappeared _between_.

Jeff slipped away from the feast and went back to the barracks. He checked on Shimuth, still snoring peacefully, and changed his clothes. He caught up his gitar bag and walked out, disappearing behind the wall that separated the Bowl from the feeding grounds. Behind the midden dump, he had practiced long hours in the night, and went there, now. The man who took care of the feeding stock had joined him for a mug of wine before, and had taught him every bawdy song, story and ballad in Pernese music. Nana would be horrified, of course, but it was useful information. Jeff sat back there now, playing and singing to himself. Of course, Impressing Shimuth made everything different, but Shimuth was asleep and Jeff had some thinking and adjusting to do. He sang every song, every sea chanty he could think of about leave-taking and loneliness.

At last, his throat hoarse with song, J'fren packed up his gitar and went back to the barracks. Still alone, he undressed, and knowing he had an early day for the next couple of Turns, decided to get a full night of sleep. He stroked his dragon's muzzle, and Shimuth never stirred. He went to sleep that night on the road to being a man, rather than just a boy standing at the crossroads.


End file.
